


Morality

by voxmyriad



Series: Ficlette Roulette [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Ficlet, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxmyriad/pseuds/voxmyriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt: Morality, Medic</p><p>Originally from <a href="http://tmblr.co/Z8MTfx1Vd9rLE">Tumblr</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	Morality

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Morality, Medic
> 
> Originally from [Tumblr](http://tmblr.co/Z8MTfx1Vd9rLE)

It was strange, the things that occupied a man’s mind when he and death were in close proximity. This battlefield for instance: dusty and deafening, littered with shell casings and bullet holes. That dark stain in the dirt, clearly from spilled blood, but whose? From which side? And how long ago? Rendered whole once again, where was he now?

Red against blue, blood against cloth, Medic thought absently as he raised a cloud of dust skidding to a halt next to the sprawled body. Still breathing, not dead. A gloved hand pressed down hard on the seeping gash across his teammate’s abdomen. Battlefield triage was not always practical, but he suspected—he pried open an eyelid, stared critically at the pupil response—yes, a concussion. Not dead, but not in any state to continue fighting. An in-between state. And likely to stay that way, the wounds were far from severe enough to kill him.

Strange that both sides bled out the same way.

It was dangerous to stay here in the open, the clear choice was simply to dispatch his colleague and continue on his way, but there was a difference here, he thought as his bonesaw rested, motionless, against major blood vessels. This death would be different. He was killing one of the men he was responsible for, and for what? To make it easier for him to die a second time, perhaps more conveniently? Was that really the reason he was here?

The fighting continued around him, distant and disconnected, as Medic stared at the teeth of the saw and the chest beneath his hand rose and fell, rose and fell.


End file.
